


Fall and Rescue

by MaiaEmerald



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF John, Homeless Network (Sherlock), Post-Reichenbach, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-19 08:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20327806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaiaEmerald/pseuds/MaiaEmerald
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is a consulting detective in London. Here he meets John Watson, his flatmate. From here, their story unfolds until the arrival and actions of Moriarty change everything they once knew.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All rights to the show Sherlock are the property of BBC. The author claims no rights nor gains profit from works published.

_ “Don’t make people in heroes John. Heroes don’t exist and if they did, I wouldn’t be one of them.” _  


You take the step, I watch you fall.

You hit the pavement and blood flows.

I try to reach you but I fall too.

When I arrive it is too late.

Blue eyes are staring up at nothing.  


They’re lowering your casket into the ground. People around are crying stricken with grief. But not me. I just stare straight ahead vacantly. It feels like I am watching from afar; everything is numb. As people offer their condolences, I feel nothing. No tears, pain or regrets.

Months pass by and the news of your “innocence” is finally released. The press updates by the hour as _new _information is brought to light. Credit is given to his flatmate for aiding in the process but I did nothing but held my stance. 

I always knew you weren’t a fraud.

Yet, none of this matters to me. You fell, Sherlock.

You fell and you weren’t the only one who did.


	2. Another's Regrets

It was an accident, I told myself. And I kept on telling myself that, as if chanting it over and over would make it true. But no matter what I told myself, it would never change the fact that John was gone. That 221B was covered in dust when I arrived, its floorboards echoing each step I took. 

I have taken on many cases since then but the thought stayed in the back of my mind, _ what if._

What if I had returned early? What if I didn’t jump? What if I told him the truth? 

But it’s too late for such thoughts. The work is calling its familiar hum and enchanting song. The work never ends, never stops, and always distracts. 

I finger through the latest case, sorting the files along the walls - each time, place and neighbor each noted carefully. Tapping my fingers on my chin, I look for missing pieces to find the underlying cause. 

“Pass me my cup would you?”

The resounding silence echoes.


End file.
